


Ig-Pay Atin-Lay

by claitynroberts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Exorcisms, F/M, First Time, Hunting, Other, fanficition, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claitynroberts/pseuds/claitynroberts
Summary: Y/n’s first exorcism goes awry





	Ig-Pay Atin-Lay

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPNGenreBingo on Tumblr. Square filled: First Time.

“Hey, Y/n,” Dean’s voice cut through her reverie. The three of them were in the Impala riding down some two-lane road, the blustery wind causing the black car to drift over the line whenever a strong gust hit her broadside. 

“Hmm?” She responded, letting him know she had heard him as she was flipping through the lore book on Demons and Demon kind. 

“Can you read Latin?” He asked, his eyes punctuating his question in the rear view mirror. 

“Latin? Yeah, I can read it. I can speak it, too.” She sent him an incredulous look and went back to her book.

“Really?” Sam asked, half turning to look over the back of the front bench seat at her.

“Yeeeaah… Can’t most hunters?”

Sam’s mouth pulled down in a noncommittal look of ‘meh’ as he bobbled his head back and forth in a ‘so-so’ motion. “I mean, I guess it’s more common than not.” He shrugged. A few minutes later he was rummaging through a small notebook he kept with him. It contained thoughts, hunches, and things that did and did not work when it came to their line of work. He always preferred to write things down, at least if it didn’t help him it may benefit someone else later on.

He ripped a page from the back, then slung his arm over the seat-back offering it to y/n. She looked at his proffered hand, and took the paper from between his fingers. Flipping it over she glanced down at it. “What’s this?” She asked, her brows furrowing.

“It’s the Latin and English translations of a basic exorcism. Dean and I know it, and we thought it may be handy if you memorized it, too. Especially with the case we’ve got.”

“Yeah,” Dean piped up, “A black-eyed bitch who likes to prey on unsuspecting couples and play with the guy while making his girl watch?” His eyebrows had quirked up to his hairline in the mirror again, his tongue licking his bottom lip between his teeth quickly as he glanced at Y/n’s reflection. “Better safe than sorry. There’s no telling what could go down.”

Their rag-tag team had successfully found and saved the latest victims earlier that afternoon, and twenty minutes later, y/n and the boys had pulled up to the derelict house said to be the location of the deaths and disappearances. The house was weathered grey with flakes of white and green paint still clinging desperately to the siding and shutters. Shingles and pieces of the roof had either been blown away or had caved in from the roof, and the front porch was a labyrinth of dangerously molded and rotten boards.

Inside the remaining furniture had sagged to the floor or simply fall apart. Dust covered every inch of flat space, and cobwebs hung from the remnants of the ceiling. The whole property was remniscent of a haunted house from one of those cheap Hollywood thrillers from the eighties. Dean began shoving the rubble aside, as Sam dug through the supply bag for a can of spray paint. A canister of salt was shoved into y/n’s hands as Dean retrieved his own and ordered her to begin salting the windows and doors. 

She had been reciting the exorcism incantation under her breath as she went about her appointed duties. When everything was readied, and each hunter had some form of weapon, Dean called out, riling up the demon. Minutes passed, and Dean provoked it once more using language coarse enough to cause even Sam’s face to tinge red.

Everything happened in a blur. A young woman with milky white skin and flame red hair flickered into appearance right in the middle of the pentagram. Windows and doors were flung shut, and anything not bolted down was thrown back against the wall effectively out of the demon’s way. 

Cackling she turned to look between y/n and the Winchesters. “Oh, a ménage á trois,” she squealed, “How scandalously delicious!” She clapped her hands together in glee, recognition dawning as she realized just who these men were. “And with the Winchesters, no less. Boy am I going to have some fun with you two.” Her grin turning maniacal. 

She began to pace toward Sam, the paint on the floor stopping her as she neared the edge of the circle. She let out a scream of frustration, her fists thumping against the invisible barrier in futility. “Not fair!” Her eyes flashed black and a growl erupted from her chest as she flung out her hand and Sam became airborn. 

Sam landed against the wall, an oomph! And a groan leaving him as his head gave a solid thump after making contact with the dry-rotted plaster and lumber. The force knocked him out cold, and he was now laying in a crumpled heap at the base of the wall, the demon knife falling from his grip and skidding across the dusty floorboards.

The demon had Dean pinned against the railing of the staircase, force choking him and pulling him off the ground much like Darth Vader. He kicked his feet and stretched his legs trying to make contact with something in order to relieve the pressure, his hands scrambling at his neck, trying to get a purchase on the invisible force. Y/n watched on in horror from the opposite side of the room where she had been magically pinned to the ground kneeling.

“Y/n!” He managed to gasp out around the crushing of his windpipe. Her attention snapped to him. “La-tin,” he coughed. His mouth falling open in a futile attempt to draw breath.

Right! She thought, of course. The exorcism.

She took a deep breath preparing herself for the moment the demon cut off her air supply as well. Y/n just hoped it may distract the woman long enough to allow her power over Dean to falter so he could finish the incantation. She cast around in her brain, searching for the words Sam had presented her with just before they arrived.

Latching onto the first couple that came to her mind, she began, her voice uncertain and quiet. “E-way exor-yay-ise-cay ou-yay, every-way impure-yay irits-pay,” y/n’s voice crescendoed as the words came back to her, “every-way atanic-say ower-pay, every-way incursion-ay of-yay e-thay infernal-yay evil-day.”

The demon’s head began to turn toward y/n, her attention on Dean lost for the moment. An amused smile lighting her gruesomely beautiful features as she took in what was happening. The demon loosened her hold on Dean’s throat allowing him to breathe properly, though his mouth still hung agape, confusion creasing his features. 

“No, y/n!” he coughed. “Latin! Like actual Latin!” 

Y/n’s voice ringing in her own ears caused Dean’s to fade to the background. “Every-way ongregation-cay and-yay iabolical-day ect-say, erefore-thay ou-yay also-way ursed-cay ragon-day.” She persisted.

“Oh honey, you are too Ute-cay!” The demon squealed in delight. “You’ll definitely be the last one I kill.” She chuckled as she turned back to Dean where he was knelt on the floor. “Your girlfriend is adorable! Too bad I have to kill you.” She shrugged as she raised her hand to blast him.

“O-say at-thay our-yay urch-chay an-cay erve-say ee-thay,” the Demon’s face began to flash in quick succession between her real appearance and the meat-suit she was wearing. A confused look crossing her features as Dean looked at her bewildered.

“What the hell?” She barked as she began to convulse, black smoke slipping out of the vessel’s nose and mouth. She whirled around, leveling her gaze on y/n. “How,” she coughed, “is this working?” She screamed in annoyance.

The demon threw her power at y/n, knocking her to the side. Her head smacked against the floor, but she groaned through the pain, never letting up on the incantation. “In-yay ecure-say iberty-lay, e-way eseech-bay ee-thay...”

“Y/n!” Dean’s voice was drowned out by the demon’s screaming.

She was poised for another attack, smoke still trickling from her face as y/n kept on, Dean watching in horror.

“As-yay e-way ray-pay…”

The demon unleashed one last attack, blowing y/n into the wall behind her as the demon turned back to the hunter.

“Ear-hay us-yay!” Y/n bellowed to the heavens as she crashed into the wall. The force knocking the rubble down around her and burying her in dust and plaster.

“Aaaarrrgghhhh!” The demon’s head snapped back as a torrent of black smoke and goo was unleashed from the meat-suit’s mouth. Once the abominable force had disappeared through the window, the poor woman left behind dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. 

Dean sat there for long moments, bewilderment and amazement swirling together in his mind. 

“Dean?” Sammy’s voice broke him from his consternation.

“Sam,” he walked over to his brother, “You okay man?”

He groaned as he sat up, rubbing the crown of his head. “Yeah, I think so. Maybe a minor concussion,” he mumbled as he felt the goose egg that had sprung up. Another groan slipped from him as he stood. “And a few bruised ribs.” He looked over his brother. “You okay?” He asked, concerned. “Where’s y/n?”

“Shit, Y/n!” Dean jogged over to the other side of the room. The two hunters began moving pieces of the rubble that had fallen on top of the young woman, unearthing her rather quickly. Dust coated her body, her hair gray from the fine particles, and blood trickling from a cut at her right temple as well as the left side of her nose.

“Y/n?!” Dean questioned frantically, taking in the state of her as he lightly tapped his fingers against her cheek. Sam had grabbed her hand and was performing the same motion. “Please, be alright,” Dean whispered, his thumb rubbing lightly against her cheekbone.

A cough and a groan left her as she blinked the debris from her eyes. “Owwwwww…” As her vision came into focus, y/n saw Dean crouched over her, the worried look on his face morphing into one of hopefulness. “Dean, what happened? Did it work?” She tried to sit up, but dizziness washed over her. Sam and Dean pulled her into a sitting position, with Dean arranging himself so he was knelt on one knee, the other bent at a ninety degree angle in front of him as he settled y/n’s back against it. 

“Y/n how do you feel?” Sam asked as he ghosted deft fingers over her joints looking for breaks.

“I’m okay, just dirty and bruised as usual.” She groaned.

“What’s your full name?” Dean asked.

She glanced up at the green-eyed hunter, “What? You know my name, Dean.”

He waved her question away with a flick of his wrist. “Just humor me, will ya?”

Rolling her eyes she answered his question. “I’m y/n y/mn y/ln. I’m y/age years old and I’m a hunter. You two are Sam and Dean Winchester, also hunters, and the biggest pair of mother hens I’ve ever met.”

“Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Is there any ringing in y—.”

“Sam Winchester, I am fine! Quit hounding me.” Y/n glared at the taller brother.

He threw up his hands in a placating signal. “Sorry, Sorry, just making sure you don’t have a concussion.” 

“Maybe a minor one, but I’ll be okay.” She waved him off and turned her attention back to Dean. “The demon? Did it work?”

“Uhhh...y-yeah, it worked.” He chuckled before looking at her, “Surprisingly.” 

“Surprisingly? Dean, we’ve used that incantation before,” Sam stated. “It’s foolproof.”

A laugh bubbled up from Dean’s chest. “Well maybe not the way y/n performed it.” He recalled the scene, and mirth began to spill out of him now that the danger had passed.

Her brow furrowed and she looked at Dean confused. “What? Did I get a word wrong or something? Latin can be kinda hard…”

Dean laughter quickly turned to full blown guffawing as Sam and y/n shared confused looks. The longer his fit of belly laughing continued, the more they became worried about the eldest hunter. 

A voice groaned from behind them. All three hunters turned toward the new voice, Dean’s laughter subsiding quickly at the possibility of another threat. The young woman the demon had been possessing had woken up, apparently not too worse for wear. “Seriously?” She looked over at y/n, incredulity burning in her eyes and disbelief edging every feature as she pulled herself into a sitting position. “Pig Latin?” 

The term set Dean off again, as understanding passed over Sam’s face. Y/n was still confused, and was looking between the hysterical older brother, the former meat-suit, and the young academic looking for some answers. “Wh-what? Is there another kind of Latin?” She asked innocently, looking to the young man with the chestnut mane. Dean’s side was now in stitches, and Sam was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“S...so let me get this straight,” Sam said, using his pointer finger to put the events of the evening in order. “Dean asked you if you could speak Latin, you said yes, then I gave you a copy of the incantation?” He ended the statement in a questioning tone, waiting for y/n to confirm it was true.

She gulped. “Yes.”

“Then, instead of memorizing the Latin translation you memorized the English. And while I was unconscious, with Dean apparently out of commission as well, you decided to chant the English version? In Pig Latin?” The disbelief was evident on his chiseled face.

Another gulp, another mumbled ‘yes’. 

“And it worked?” His brows were knitted together in confusion, as he looked to his brother for confirmation. Dean had folded his lips between his teeth to calm the joy he felt at the hilarity of the situation, nodding his head as sagely as possible. 

“Apparently…” Y/n lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. 

Sam’s mouth hung open much like a fish out of water, his mind working through every possible reason it shouldn't have worked. All through the clean up process and the trek back to the motel, Sam’s mind was spinning, his brows pulled down so far over his eyes they nearly disappeared.

Y/n had slipped in the door to the room first, leaving the boys to trail behind. Dean had stopped in the doorway as he reached it, looking back to his brother and clapping him on the shoulder to bring him out of his reverie. “Hey Sam, let’s, uh—let’s give it some time. Y’know, before we start teasing her.” He waved absentmindedly toward the door behind him indicating just who he was talking as if his brother had forgotten.

“I, uh—yeah, agreed.” Sam looked at his brother to see the thinly veiled affection he harbored for y/n. “I just can’t figure out how it worked.” The night’s events confusing him the more he thought about it.

“Y’know, me neither.” Dean smirked. “Maybe it was a miracle from Chuck, maybe it was a fluke.” He shrugged as he turned back toward the room, glancing at his brother as Sam followed him inside, shutting and locking the door behind them. “Either way, let’s just chalk it up as a win, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sam agreed as he pulled a beer from the mini fridge. He flopped down in the tattered chair by the door, heaving a befuddled sign as he yanked the cap off. Bubbling the cool liquid a few times he plopped the bottle against his thigh, bracing it with the force of his arm. “Pig Latin,” he mumbled as his head plunked against the wall behind him. After a moment a baffled snort escaped him. “Who woulda thought.”


End file.
